


Wings of Kindness

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Pre-War, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6139300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kindness brings an unexpected visitor to Watson's medical practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings of Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the February prompt "Unexpected kindness" on Watson's Woes.
> 
> Warnings: Assumes basic knowledge of ACD canon timelines. No real plot or point. More or less pure fluff. And absolutely no beta. Written in a rush before February runs out (even with the extra day). You have been warned.

I had just finished updating my notes on the day’s patients when the housemaid announced a visitor. I glanced at the desk clock in surprise. It was well past appointment hours, and emergency cases were rare in my quiet London practice. Nor did the young man who followed at her heels appear unwell. In fact he looked the very picture of health. His every movement was full of active, confident energy. “Doctor Watson?” he asked.  
  
I dismissed the maid with a nod. “Yes, I am he,” I confirmed. “How may I help you, young man? Forgive me, but you don’t appear in need of a doctor.”  
  
“Not at the moment, thank you.” He gave me a bright smile. “I’m Douglas Robb. Davy Robb’s brother.”  
  
As soon as he said it, I could see the family connection in the red-brown hair and hazel eyes, although Douglas’ face was far more weather-beaten. I frowned. “Davy’s not had a setback, has he?” I had set young Davy’s leg several weeks ago. It was a severe fracture, and the best chance of full recovery required both rest and keeping all weight off the limb. Keeping an active boy confined to his bed, however, was easier to prescribe than to do.  
  
“No, not at all,” his brother assured me. “In fact he’s in great spirits, all things considered. I’ve been away, you see, and when my parents wrote me about the accident, I was sure they’d have the Devil of a time keeping Davy quiet. We Robbs are all alike; we can’t sit still for anything.”  
  
“Indeed,” I observed, watching the young man pace around in front of my desk.  
  
A sheepish grin creased his eyes and brought a flush to his already-rosy cheeks. “Yes, you know this already, of course you do. Anyhow, I made it home today, fearing to find Davy half-mad with boredom and Mother worn to the bone. Instead Davy’s been as good as gold about the leg, Mother says, and Davy himself can hardly stop talking about you, and the stories you’ve told him.”  He blew out a breath and grew serious. “Even before Mother told me as much, I guessed you’d been by nearly every day to look in on Davy and tell him a story, or bring him something new and interesting to look over and think about until you came back again. And you’ve not charged a penny for any of your visits, either.”  
  
It was my turn to flush uncomfortably. It was true; I had attended Davy on most days. “A doctor likes to make sure that his patient is doing well, but would not dream of charging the patient for satisfying his curiousity,” I demurred.  “And my practice is a quiet one. I am half-retired. If anything, Davy has done me a courtesy, listening to an old man’s tales of days gone by and letting me ramble on.”  
  
“No, Doctor. It was a kindness on your part,” Douglas disagreed. “And I know you never expected to be thanked for it, and probably wish I wasn’t making a point of doing so, so I shan’t go on. But from what Davy has told me, it’s clear you’ve lived an adventurous life.”  
  
The sudden change of topic caught me off-guard. “I lived an active life, but that was many years ago. I am well past such things now.” I gestured to my walking-stick, resting against my desk, ready to hand. “Even if I was otherwise inclined to forget, my leg reminds me that I am no longer young.” And my shoulder, and half my joints, I could have added, but did not. “My adventuring days are over, I’m afraid.”  
  
Douglas grinned at me, twice as brightly as before. “What if I could offer you a grand adventure, one that required nothing more than the ability to sit down? And a bit of courage?” His eyes twinkled. “What would you say to that?”  
  
Despite myself, I could not help but be intrigued. I was no Holmes, however, to deduce what he had in mind. I had to ask. “I’d say you’ve made me fairly curious, Mr Robb. What are you proposing?”  
  
The next day, I returned to my practice in the early afternoon. My mind was still dazed, practically numb with everything I had seen and experienced since I agreed to accept Mr Robb’s offer. An unexpected kindness and a grand adventure indeed, all in return for what had really been the most trivial actions on my part.  
  
The maid looked astonished at my dusty, wind-blown appearance, and my housekeeper promised me coffee and luncheon at once, as I must be famished. But I felt neither hunger nor fatigue. I soothed them both the best that I could, and retired immediately to my office. More than anything else, I needed some time alone. Time to reflect. Time to remember. And most of all, time to write.  
  
I sat down at my desk and retrieved my writing-paper and pen from their usual places. I glanced at the drawer where this paper would eventually go, to join the many other written missives that I had penned. I had no place to send them, but I hoped someday to deliver them all in person.  
  
I had no way of knowing when that day might come. I pushed that thought away and started to write.  


 

June --, 1914

My dear Holmes,  
  
After all these years I believe I may finally say that I have seen a side of London that you never have. An astonishing claim, I know, given your knowledge of the city; but unless I am greatly mistaken, true nonetheless.  For I have now seen London as the birds and angels do: from the air. For an unforgettable hour and more, I looked down at rooftops and chimneys, parks and pavements, slums and mansions: all alike, all marvelous.   
  
Yes. You read that correctly. I, John Hamish Watson, flew over London: not in flight of fancy, but in actual fact. This morning, just before dawn, the brother of a young patient of mine helped me climb up and then into the observation seat of his aeroplane. It was a tight fit, and my leg gave me some trouble, but I managed it…

 

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**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted February 29, 2016


End file.
